


The Buried

by Initial_Non-Applicable_ (Top7879)



Series: The Magnus Archives AU [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Buried!Harry, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Really Character Death, Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives), Who knows if it's one-sided though, referenced relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29881671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Top7879/pseuds/Initial_Non-Applicable_
Summary: Avatar of the Buried, Harry Potter goes freely to give a statement to the Archivist."Sometimes I catch myself feeling so jealous of my parents. How did they feel when they died, I wonder? Crushed between shrapnel- having shrapnel so close it’s inside them. Having steel so close to them they can barely move, barely breathe...Can you imagine? Hard and Choking in its majesty. It was-No. This is enough for youI will tell you about my love though"
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: The Magnus Archives AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2196969
Kudos: 6





	The Buried

“I’m here to make a statement…. What? Oh, you look rather shocked. Am I the first of…. I guess I should say  _ us Avatars,  _ even though there is no US not really. It’s not a surprise, we-me- my- it’s not the antithesis to the Eye like the Stranger or the Spiral, or even the Lonely in some ways, some situations. The Buried doesn’t  _ care _ like they do

Well, I’m getting off track. Where do I start? It would be easier to let you  _ ask,  _ I suppose, but you aren’t strong enough and it still bothers me to  **let** you use me to feed  **your** patron. 

I guess I should say that I loved sweaters. I always did even before this, the warm surrounding my body and the weight on my back. I like heavy backpacks too, for the same reason. It’s always  _ comforting  _ to have that pressure, especially behind you. I like to sleep against the wall at night, and when I can’t I pile pillows of stuffed animals behind me and sort of scoot against it. Curl up.

It’s probably because of the way I grew up. Always trapped in that tiny cupboard that I grew too big for. A gradual change from having my feet touch the door to having it scrape against me, that I don’t remember. Was too young to remember. 

My parents died in a car crash when I was a baby, or so was told to me by my aunt and uncle. Honestly, I don’t know if they were lying- even now. 

Anyway, I like the closeness of it all. That sort of leads to dispising the opposite- the grand space of the outside. It wasn’t bad at first, I just wasn’t used to it. I led a normal life, got out of my god forsaken relatives house, learned to drive, moved. 

If I had one regret, it was moving as far as possible, moving to a rural city with wide and long highways next to those open fields. Driving made my hands shake. Not in fear, but in the  _ wrongness _ of it all. But it was subtle enough where I could get by and live on.

I press my back into my chair on my drives. To feel that pressure, in that wide space, to remind me that I was in a  _ small  _ car.

The wrongness of those wide spaces had gotten worse. The pillows and stuffed animals felt too  _ soft  _ to feel right again. I missed that scraping small room of mine, curling up never felt the same as being somewhere where it was too  _ tight _ .

When I drove around, I could feel the whole  _ wide  _ world behind me. And see it in front of me through the windows. The pressing of the car does little, the chair feels less  _ solid.  _

You know, driving became some strange meditation for me, actually. My mind blanks and my hands move the wheel.

There’s trucks that go on that highway, big ones. One’s for store delivery- big 16 wheelers. You know the kind. 

Sometimes my hands move the wheel. Move to the wrong side of the road, towards the lane of traffic going  _ towards  _ me. And sometimes I catch myself feeling so jealous of my parents. How did they feel when they died, I wonder? Crushed between shrapnel- having shrapnel so close it’s  _ inside  _ them. Having steel so close to them they can barely move, barely  _ breathe _ . 

That must feel amazing.

Unfortunately- well not really, can’t regret how I got here- I didn’t * _go*_ that way. I came into the city, actually. It would be a bit of a relief, getting out of that outspread fields until you start to get an underlying instinct of how the outside world is _vast._

We build buildings to feel like the world is smaller. So, I spent most of my time in buildings. 

I would like to tell you I have two loves, one is my god. And the other is someone more…  _ human.  _ I met my love when I was in a building. Not directly, but he was doing something, I assume his god led him. However he’s someone who has very direct goals and they are all for  _ him  _ so I guess not.    
  
I’m not going to go into the details. His plans are his own, maybe he’ll come and tell you himself if you're lucky. But the end result was a collapsed building. Not a crashed car, but something  _ crushing.  _

My love helped me truly become, truly  _ find,  _ my god. Hard and Choking in its majesty. It was-

No. This is enough for you. Like I said before, I’m not interested in feeding your god. Not that much. 

Anyway. Long story short, here I am. Still alive, still breathing concrete dust. You’re probably wondering  _ why _ I’m here still. Well, I guess you can say my love sent me. He needed a distraction, and I’m not entirely sure whether it’s a distraction for  _ me  _ or for  _ you.  _ Either way, I don’t mind. There’s very little that bothers me and my love will still be  _ my love,  _ even if he doesn’t want me around. 

I really have one setting when it comes to affection. I try my best to be ever there and ever  _ pressing- a pressure……… _

You know what, I  _ am  _ in the mood to talk some more. Color me surprised! I guess while I won’t tell you about my becoming I am able to tell you about my love. After all, what love struck person isn’t always willing to go on about their beloved, and how they feel about them.

At the beginning, I think it was just a distant affection. Such a human feeling brought upon whether he knew it or not, he gave me to my god. And then it became real, almost  _ tangible  _ love the more I learned about him.

I’ve never met a man who thought love was such a  _ burden.  _ And isn’t that wonderful- my love is a constraint weight on him, something heavy-  **pushing at him** constantly. He carries my love like a boulder on his shoulder. Like Atlas. 

It’s useful in some situations, sure. Like, throwing it at a store window, or dropping it on a person. Or even as an anchor against those who would rather have him fly-  _ or float-  _ away. But over all, it’s still a heavy thing that he has with him constantly, the cons outway the pros you might say, when it comes to me.

Now don’t get me wrong. I know how manipulative He is. If I didn’t already know how much he  _ hates  _ being manipulated, I would have thought his chosen god is the Spider. Because that’s their whole deal isn’t it? Manipulate to be manipulated in turn. No, he hates that, so I much rather think that his chosen god would probably be the Eye. Knowing everything about a person, their allegiances and secrets, probably sounds wonderful to him.

Or maybe he would be of the End- he has always had a prevalent fear of death. And maybe he would give himself to it for the illusion of living forever.

Anyway back to my point, I’m not stupid. I don’t do whatever he says because I think he loves me back or is a nice person or any of that. No, I _know-_ as certain as one of you lot know, probably knows- that there is no chance to have him love me back, he might not even be _capable_ of love. 

But don’t you see? That’s the point. My love will never  _ not  _ be heavy. It might even grow  _ more  _ over time, and isn’t that wonderful?

Maybe one day it will grow so heavy that He will sink into the hard stone of his pedestal and join me.”


End file.
